


Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare

by AkatsukiShin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Disability, Romance, musician au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9334484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkatsukiShin/pseuds/AkatsukiShin
Summary: The story of a violinist bereft of inspiration and a young man who speaks through his music.





	1. Chapter 1

_I hear a voice crying in the distance_

_Have you been abandoned, too?_  

* * *

A glamorous stage; an enormous hall donned in elegance under the sparkling crystal lights.

In front of more than a hundred guests of revered musicians and influential figures of the entertainment world, the Master of Ceremony stood with his microphone and a sealed envelope in hand. He had a meaningful smile on his face, as if knowing very well the brimming curiosity directed at him by his audience. “ _Best Composer of the Year_ ” – those were the words displayed on the huge screen at the center-back of the stage, and the Master of Ceremony was only seconds away from disclosing the name who would be graced with this honorable title on this very night.

“Then, without further ado, the ‘Best Composer of the Year’ title goes to—“ Hisashi Morooka opened the envelope in his hand and took out the card inside, “—for the fifth consecutive times, Viktor Nikiforov!“

The entire hall was filled with thundering cheers and applause at that very second; an epic music was immediately played by the band. The crowds grew even more excited when the man whose name had just been announced emerged from amongst them, walking on the red carpet towards the stage where clips of his earlier performances were now being shown on the screen.

Viktor Nikiforov was undoubtedly a man of irresistible charm. The silver-haired Russian had only taken his first step onto the stage, shaking hands with Morooka and accepting his trophy, but the crowds had already been chanting his name from every corner. “ _Viktor! Viktor! Viktor!_ ” – they cheered, men and women alike, and they only stopped after the said man stood on the podium, smiling and waving his hand.

“…Well, what can I say?” was the first word he said, softly laughing while casting his gaze towards the sea of people before him, “It really is an honor to be able to hold this trophy again this year. I’m not sure I could describe how happy I am right now.”

He took a deep breath and looked at the audience again.

“Of course, I would really love to thank every single one of you and everyone who has supported me all this time. But as you know, I’m not very good with words, am I? And by the time I finished it would have been morning already.”

His spontaneous remark undoubtedly invited chuckles and giggles from the guests. Amongst them was a man only two years younger than the Russian now standing on the stage. Christophe Giacometti was the name, a renowned movie director and scriptwriter from Switzerland who also had his fair share of recognitions and achievements from the world. There was a subtle smile drawn on his face; his hazel eyes briefly glimmering as if he’d known something that the rest of the audience wasn’t aware of.

“Here we go again…” he murmured under his breath, “What kind of stunt are you going to pull this time, Mr. Living Legend?”

“Therefore, if the Master of Ceremony would allow me…” Viktor gave a meaningful wink at the presenter near him, “Instead of words, may I convey my gratitude in a language I am more familiar with? Music, perhaps?”

All of a sudden, the lightings in the hall darkened except for the ones on stage. Bathed in spotlight, the young maestro opened both of his arms, to which the stagehands swiftly handed him a violin and its bow. At that moment, one could definitely see the look in his blue eyes changing as he placed the bow on the instrument’s strings.

And it began.

— _In Regards to Love: Eros_

“Hey, hey, are you serious…?” Christophe laughed under his breath the moment the music started, shaking his head.

It was a captivating melody; “Eros” – a representation of sexual pleasure. The music was composed for a Western movie that was released earlier this year. Although the main focus of the story lied in the actions, this music had particularly drawn the world’s attention when played during the scene where the hero sneaked into a party held by the leader of the local gangster. There, he met the daughter of his enemy, a beautiful yet strong-willed young woman, and the both of them engaged in a passionate, most ardent dance ever, enchanting the entire party until the woman’s father realized his true identity – and the hero fled, leaving the young woman after having stolen her heart away.

There was no question that the same passion portrayed in the movie was now spreading throughout the enormous hall, permeating into the hearts of those who were listening that the previously excited crowds had now been silenced as if under a spell.

Nobody said a word; nobody could look away.

And when the violinist struck the last note, the whole place broke into a roaring mess of nonstop applause and standing ovation, even more than when the Russian man was crowned the best composer of the year a few minutes ago.

“An excellent, masterful performance! Ladies and gentlemen, Viktor Nikiforov!”

The words of the Master of Ceremony only served to excite the crowds even more. Everyone was cheering; everyone was clapping their hands. The silver-haired violinist was smiling and waving his hand from the stage, seemingly glad and proud.

And yet no one – not even those sitting at the very front – noticed the change of look in that pair of blue eyes, except for the Swiss man sitting amongst the standing crowds, quietly staring at that lone musician bathed under the spotlight.

* * *

“You were really confident of your victory, huh?”

“Really, Chris… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Russian calmly took a sip of his drink, but soon he broke into a light chuckle upon seeing the untrusting look on the other’s face, “Well, perhaps I really was a little bit confident.”

“A little bit isn’t even going to cut it. You totally requested to the staffs to set up the timing of your performance, didn’t you?”

It was not long after the awards event was over. Both Viktor and Chris were drinking in the bar of the hotel where they were staying. Having known each other for many years, seeing these two men hanging out together was no longer a rare sight for the public as it was known that they were very good friends. There had been quite a lot of times when they worked together in the same project, but as for what kind of things they talked about outside of work, almost no one knew.

“I’ve told you this before, Chris,” the Russian put down his glass on the bar table, “When I approach every music like a new beginning, I know I will be able to surprise people. It’s just that this appears to be the case for my works this year, so I was more or less certain of getting the title.”

“What if by chance someone else won?”

“Well, I asked the staffs to run with this only if I win. If that wasn’t the case, they can go on with the original rundown. It would be my turn to perform soon, either way.”

“And they approved your whimsical request as usual, I see.”

“They said it was a great idea to attract more viewers on TV and made the rating goes up.”

“So it’s a win-win solution,” the Swiss man chuckled and offered a handshake to his friend, “In any case, it’s your fifth consecutive title as the best composer of the year. I believe congratulation is in order.”

“Thanks, Chris,” Viktor smiled, answering to the handshake, “And congrats to you, too. Your ‘ _Rapsodie Espagnole_ ’ really is the best movie I’ve watched this year, probably one of the best you’ve created.”

“Even if you say that, I’m not gonna pay for your drinks tonight.”

They both laughed casually and had a toss to celebrate their recent achievements. Gulping down on their respective drinks, once again Christophe didn’t miss the slight change in the other man’s expression. It was the same as what he noticed at the end of Viktor’s performance on stage, and having known the violinist for a long time, there was no reason for him to hesitate from expressing his concern.

“So, Viktor…” he said, putting down his glass, “You seemed like you were avoiding the press’ interview after the award. Why?”

“Really? I did answer their questions, though.”

“It’s your answers that made it sounded like you’re avoiding their questions,” replied the movie director, “Especially when they asked about your plan for next year, you gave them a really vague answer.”

“Aren’t you funny, Chris? If I laid all my tricks bare from the beginning, people wouldn’t be as surprised when they see the real thing later, would they?”

“Viktor. We’ve known each other for years. Do you still think you can lie right in front of my face?”

The violinist went silent; his blue eyes briefly widened. It was before long that a lonely smile was drawn on his handsome face, however, and he stared at his own reflection on the glass while responding to his friend’s question.

“I’m considering to retire next year,” he said in a soft voice, “Of course, I will see all my on-going works until the end, but I won’t take on anymore jobs after that.”

“…Are you serious?”

“Mm-hm. I’ve done a lot of thinking and I guess it’s for the best,” Viktor made a small nod, “Sorry, to say something like this out of the blue, Chris. Were you surprised?”

“There’s no need for you to apologize about that. But if you asked me whether I was surprised or not… Well, I suppose you really did catch me off-guard,” the Swiss man sighed, resting his chin on his hand, “Not that it never crossed my mind, but I just didn’t expect your retirement to come so soon. Can I ask why?”

“I’m not sure how to put it into words, but… I’d say I simply have no idea what to do,” replied Viktor, and he chuckled while shrugging his shoulders upon seeing the confused look on the other’s face, “Or maybe you could say that I’m running out of inspiration.”

“Now that’s news to me. The great Viktor Nikiforov running out of inspiration,” Chris raised his eyebrows, “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“……None of my music feels like a new beginning anymore…”

The musician said nothing more but remained staring at his own reflection on the glass. His face was half hidden under his long bangs, but it was impossible not to notice the glint of sadness in his voice. Christophe, on the other hand, quietly gazed at his Russian friend. And yet all of a sudden, he called the barista and asked for two more drinks.

“Chris?”

“This one’s on me,” he said, “Stop making that face and drink up.”

“…You’re actually pretty nice, aren’t you?”

“Of course. I’m always nice,” the movie director purposely made a smug face. He saw Viktor laughing at his words, and at that sight he couldn’t help but smile, as well. “You know, Viktor. Maybe you’re actually just bored?”

“Bored?”

“I don’t mean to belittle your problem, but I think you might actually just need a break,” Chris showed him a secretive smile, “Or perhaps you could try doing something different for a change. How about joining me on my new project?”

There was so much meaning in the way his Swiss friend winked at him that Viktor couldn’t hide his curiosity. Unlike him, Chris never considered surprising people as his main goal, but certainly this man had also surprised countless people in his line of work. The movies he created wouldn’t receive dozens of awards and worldwide recognition otherwise.

“Are you looking for a composer for your new movie?” Viktor slightly tilted his head.

“Yes, but it’s not a movie. It’s a musical theatre.”

“Musical theatre?!”

“Yup. Most of the team comes from Russia and the première would be in Bolshoi Theatre, so I would be staying in Moscow for awhile.”

“You’re temporarily moving to Russia?” the violinist seemed surprised, “What about your boyfriend? Is he coming, too?”

“Nah, he’s got his own work to do,” replied Chris lightly, “But we’ll manage, as usual. Also, he needs to take care of my beloved cat while I’m gone. The little princess hates flying, you know?”

He rested his face on his hand and stared at his friend.

“So? How about it? You’re interested?”

“W-Well, that’s certainly something…different…” Viktor stuttered a bit, “I know you’ve worked on several stage plays before, but never a musical.”

“It’s a new challenge for me, too,” the Swiss director closed him eyes and smiled, “That’s why I think it would be nice to have a familiar face around when I’m being surrounded by this unfamiliar environment.”

“I see…” the violinist cast his eyes down, seemingly contemplating on the offer. He had composed many original music, he had collaborated with many orchestras, had his own individual concert and composed songs for movies. But just like Chris, working on a musical was an area he’d never touched before.

Perhaps as his friend said, it could be an interesting new challenge.

“You don’t have to give your answer now, Viktor. Just think about it and let me know if you’ve made up your mind,” Chris rose from his seat and lightly patted his friend’s shoulder, “Well then, I’m turning in first. I need to catch an early flight to Zürich tomorrow. What about you?”

“I’ll be returning to St. Petersburg. There are some pieces I still need to complete and I’d like to do that at my studio at home.”

“I see. Then good luck with that. I’ll contact you again about my offer later.”

For the last time today, his Swiss friend gave him a meaningful wink before leaving the bar. Viktor remained sitting on his chair for awhile, staring at the empty glass in his hands.

On the limpid surface, he saw his own face staring back at him, full of wonder.

“ _A musical, huh?_ ” he thought, “ _That certainly sounds like something new._ ”

Viktor couldn’t recall the first time he jumped into the music world. For as long as he remembered, he’d been holding various kinds of instruments ever since he was a child before deciding that violin was his favorite. He’d won countless competitions. He’d gone to a famous music school and joined a famous orchestra under a renowned conductor. Even after he decided to become independent, his career didn’t stop climbing.

In fact, perhaps his issue right now was due to the fact that he had reached the very peak of his career; so high that there was nothing left for him to climb.

“ _Really…_ ” the violinist let out a long sigh, resting his face on his folded arms on the table, “ _I wonder what I need…so I can keep going on my own…_ ”

* * *

_Wiener Musikverein, Vienna._

_Located in the Innere Stadt district of Austria’s capital city, it was first inaugurated in 1870 by the emperor of that time. The concert hall – better known as the Musikverein – is home to one of the best orchestras in the world, the Vienna Philharmonic. Albeit it was built long ago before the modern era, its “Golden Hall” is also considered to be among the finest concert halls worldwide._

_Young Viktor Nikiforov gracefully stepped onto the stage. With his long, silver hair tied into a ponytail, he saluted the juries and hundreds of audience watching him from their seats. Indeed, he was among the finalists for this competition where young musicians from all over the world tried to prove their talents. Should he place among the top three, he would be granted with a full scholarship to study in one of the best music schools in Europe._

_Of course, the young Russian was confident of his victory._

_It was just before he placed his bow on the strings of his violin that a sudden commotion was heard from the backstage. Not only the juries, but also the audience sitting at the front rows was able to notice the ruckus. Viktor saw the event staffs rushing there; a band with the word “medic” written on it was strapped on their arms. Knowing that his turn would be delayed either way, the young violinist headed to the source of commotion, brimming with curiosity._

_“Is something the matter?” was the question he asked to a staff standing nearby. The older lady seemed startled by his presence, and she profusely attempted to ensure him that everything was alright._

_Nevertheless, Viktor didn’t miss the sight of another medic team coming in from the door on the other side. They were carrying a stretcher with them, and it was at that moment the young Russian noticed someone was lying on the floor of the room, trembling and wheezing. Surely, it must be one of them, the finalists – a younger boy with jet black hair and a pair of glasses._

_And when the medic carried him away on the stretcher, the boy clenched his fists so hard that Viktor could only wonder whether it was due to pain or frustration._

_Just now, did he see the boy crying?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Come now, let’s empty this glass of wine soon_

_I’ll start getting ready_

_Now be silent_

* * *

It was the beginning of spring. The sun was shining bright that morning and the cloudless sky appeared to promise the start of a fine day.

Amongst the sea of humans and vehicles crowding the streets of Moscow, Viktor Nikiforov could be seen walking along the pedestrian, wearing his favorite trench coat and scarf. Next to him was none other than his faithful companion, an old brown poodle named Makkachin who had been with him for a very long time.

“—Achoo!“ the violinist suddenly sneezed, “Geez, it’s already spring, but the temperature’s still cold, huh, Makkachin?”

“Woof!”

“What do you mean you’re not cold?! You’re already an old man in the dog world!”

“Woof, woof!”

It was unclear whether they both could actually understand each other, but Viktor kept talking to his poodle regardless of the strange looks people were giving him. Sometimes he showed a pouting face, sometimes he smiled and other times he laughed. In the meantime, Makkachin responded to him in small barks and whimpers, occasionally licking his hand and wagging his fluffy tail.

Several weeks had passed since he was awarded with the title of best composer. Chris fulfilled his promise; a few days after they parted, the Swiss director sent him a proposal containing the general ideas and concept of the said musical theatre. And along with it, an invitation to attend a meeting with the core team members in Moscow.

“ _So in the end, I decided to come all the way here,_ ” Viktor thought to himself, “ _I’m still not completely sure, but since it’s come to this, I suppose there’s no choice but to move forward._ ”

He felt Makkachin licking the tips of his fingers, gazing at him with those pair of gleaming black eyes. It was as if his furry friend was trying to tell him not to worry so much, and Viktor couldn’t help but smile at him, petting his fluffy brown fur as they continued walking side by side towards their destination.

Eventually, a certain building appeared not far from where they were.

“…We’re here,” Viktor muttered under his breath, looking straight ahead without slowing down his pace.

It was a neoclassical building. Standing firmly three stories high from the ground, it occupied a considerably large plot of land in the middle of the city. The main structure was surrounded by green courtyard and many young people could be seen roaming around the vicinity. They were mostly teenagers and young adults; some were carrying musical instruments while the older folks blending amongst them were dressed in working outfits. It was fairly obvious for those who were familiar with the area; this place was a conservatory, a very famous one at that.

_How nostalgic_ – A subtle smile was drawn on Viktor’s face when he passed through the yard and into the main entrance. He knew that many of the students recognized him; he was once one of them and he had walked across this very courtyard countless times in the past. When he stepped inside, the classic atmosphere remained the same despite some small changes that had been made.

“ _I thought this place would have changed so much that I wouldn’t recognize it anymore,_ ” Viktor briefly swept his gaze around, “ _Looks like I don’t have to be worried about getting lost._ ”

“Vitya.”

“Hmm? Ah, Yakov, it’s you.”

At that sudden call, the silver-haired Russian turned to find the owner of the voice, a man much older than him with balding grey hair. Even if the later remained stoic, the young maestro seemed so happy to see him that he smiled from ear to ear, jogging towards the older man together with his poodle.

“Yakov, it’s been awhile!”

“…Vitya, why is your dog here, too?” the old man frowned, “How many times have I told you that pets are not allowed on the campus ground?”

“But… But I can’t possibly leave him alone at home…” replied Viktor with a sad face. At the same time, Makkachin also cast his eyes down and whimpered that at a glance, it seemed as if the two of them were sharing the same disheartened look.

“Tch— Fine, just make sure he wouldn’t disturb us during the meeting.”

“Yay! Thanks, Yakov!”

Again, both the violinist and his poodle made the same happy face that the older man found himself at loss of words.

Yakov Feltsman. He was one of the most renowned conductors in Russia, leading the nation’s best orchestra. He was also a music instructor, and for more than a decade now he had been one of the most respected professors in this school. For as long as he could remember, Viktor had been under this man’s tutelage and used to be part of his orchestra until he decided to become independent five years ago. Even then, they remained in contact and there were times when Viktor collaborated with Yakov’s orchestra on some occasions.

Although he always looked angry with that scary face and voice, the violinist knew that Yakov was an extremely good man at heart. If anything, he was already like a father to him.

“So I heard you recently won an award,” the conductor said as they walked along the corridor, “Congratulations, Vitya.”

“Thank you, Yakov. It’s all thanks to your teachings that I can come this far.”

“Hmph. You have no right to say that when you’ve never listened to what I said in the first place.”

“Ahahaha, sorry, sorry. I know I’ve caused a lot of troubles for you,” Viktor laughed without even a speck of regret in his face, “But, Yakov… I’m surprised to hear that you would be involved in this project.”

“It has an interesting concept and good prospect,” the older man said, “Actually, I’m more surprised to find out that you’re joining the team all of a sudden.”

“Well… Chris only told me about it recently,” hearing those words, the young maestro slightly chuckled, scratching the side of his face, “To be honest, I wasn’t really sure at first, but this seems challenging. I have never worked for a musical before, so I’m eager to know what I can do in this project.”

“As long as you’re not just playing around.”

“Don’t worry, Yakov. You know I always see what I’ve started until the end.”

To his answer, the conductor snorted and looked away, a very typical reaction which Viktor had grown far too used to see in the past.

After passing a row of classrooms, an inner garden and a music room, the two men headed for the stairs that brought them to the second, then the third floor. Unlike the lower grounds, there were considerably less students here and one of the hallways was filled with nothing but dark-colored doors lining on both sides. A metal plate was embedded on each of them, and on the furthermost door, the plate had the name “Yakov Feltsman” engraved on it.

“…What is it, VItya?” Yakov asked upon noticing his former student standing in place, staring at the said door.

“Ah, no. Just thinking that even your office is still in the same place,” the violinist shook his head and smiled, “So? Am I the last one to be here?”

“That appears to be the case. Either way, just get inside first.”

With that said, Yakov turned the knob and opened the way into his office.

Just like the overall architecture of the building, all rooms in the conservatory had a neoclassical design applied to its whole interior, including those of the professors’. On one side, there was Yakov’s desk and several wooden shelves filled with books and all sorts of documents. The windows were facing the inner garden, and the way they were positioned made it easy for sunlight to enter the room that no lamps were required on sunny days such as this.

Closer to the entrance was a short table surrounded by a couple of sofas. It looked almost like a small living room, intended for informal meetings and interviews. When Viktor stepped into the office, the first thing he saw was two familiar men and an older woman whom he had never seen before.

“I knew you’d come, Viktor,” Christophe said with a happy smile upon seeing his Russian friend coming in, and then he turned at a bald middle-aged man beside him who was wearing a pair of red-framed glasses, “See? I told you, Josef. He’s going to bring his dog along to this meeting.”

“Heh heh, you’re right, Chris. Looks like I owe you lunch,” the man called Josef laughed before rising to his feet, offering a handshake to the violinist, “Good to see you again, Viktor. I hope you remember me?”

“Of course. Josef Karpisek. How could I forget when you and Chris are always glued to each other in every single project?” Viktor chuckled as he shook the other’s hand. He then turned at the only woman in the room, a lady much older than him with an extremely stern face that was almost similar to Yakov’s. “And you are?”

“Lilia Baranovskaya,” she promptly responded; her handshake felt strong and firm, “A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Huh?”

“Lilia is a former prima ballerina of Bolshoi Ballet,” Yakov said, “Since we need a choreographer for this musical, I asked her about it and she agreed to join.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Yakov,” replied her, “I have no intention of getting back together with you.”

“I-I wasn’t hoping for that at all!“ to the lady’s blunt remark, Yakov became very flustered all of a sudden, and it was at that moment Viktor recalled something he had heard a long time ago.

“ _That’s right… I know Yakov used to be married. So it was her…_ ”

“Alright then, since everyone’s here, I suppose we can already start with the meeting,” clasping his hands, Christophe looked at the other four people in the room as if requesting their attention, “First of all, thank you very much, Mr. Yakov, for lending us your office for this first meeting. I would like to take this chance to provide a more detailed concept of the musical theatre that I have in mind.”

He provided each of them with a file folder.

“This is the hard copy of the proposal that I have sent a few weeks ago, including the complete synopsis. I will send you the full script tonight, but for now, do you have any comments on what we currently have at hand?”

“The casts,” Lilia responded swiftly without taking her eyes of the papers, “If I don’t like what I see, I might reconsider joining this project.”

“We already have several names in mind, especially for the main characters,” said Chris as he turned to his colleague, “Josef, if you will…”

“Right,” the man opened his laptop, showing the profiles of several actors and actresses, “The main casts will be played by Michele and Sara Crispino. We’ve considered some others beside them, but they appear to be the most suited for these roles.”

“The Crispino twins, huh?” Yakov folded his arms, “Certainly, they have a lot of experiences with theatres and musicals. If I remember correctly, the last musical they starred in was performed in Milan’s Teatro Alla Scala only a few months ago.“

“ _Serenade for Two_. It tells the story of a knight who falls in love with the princess of the opposing nation when their kingdoms are at war,” replied Chris, “While the main idea sounds rather cliché, countless critics have admitted that the twins had successfully brought their characters to life. I believe there are rumors that this musical will be nominated for this year’s ‘Best Romance’.”

“Honestly, I thought the fact that they are siblings would somehow hinder their acting, but perhaps I was wrong,” said Yakov again, “Either way, casting and acting are not my forte in this project. What do you think, Lilia?”

“Overall they’re perfect to play romantic roles, but when separated it will be another story,” the former prima ballerina responded; her lime-green eyes fixated on the twins’ picture, “That said, they’re a good choice for this musical. Very well, continue.”

“For the deceptive antagonist, we have here Emil Nekola from the Czech Republic. Given that he is a good friend of the Crispinos, we decided that this role suits him well,” Josef tapped on his laptop, “Furthermore, Korea’s Seung Gil Lee passed our screening to play the protagonist’s unexpected ally. Jean-Jacques Leroy will be the king whom the heroine serves as she was sent to him as a gift from a neighboring kingdom.”

He leaned back to his seat.

“And that concludes the main casts for our musical. Do you have anything to add, Chris?”

“Thanks, Josef. In any case, we will send you the complete lists of the casts later, including the supporting actors so you can look further into it,” replied the Swiss director, “Other than that, if there are no more questions from everyone, perhaps we could move on to the next point?”

“What about the music?” asked Yakov, “I understand that you want our orchestra to perform all the pieces and we are ready for that. However, we will need to know what kind of music it will be so we can decide on the instruments composition.”

“In regards to that, I will leave it up to Viktor,” the director turned at his Russian friend, “Of course, I will provide my inputs as the one who writes the story, but for the overall concept, I’m trusting it to our main composer.”

“…That’s an honor, Chris,” having said nothing for awhile, the violinist only responded with a smile; one of his hand petting the brown poodle sitting by his legs, “I have composed several songs for your movies in the past, but I suppose you would like something different this time?”

“The story focuses a lot on the many sides of human emotions. If I were to put it into words, I would say I imagine the music to portray different emotions, as well, for each major scene, especially the protagonist’s love towards the heroine.”

“I see…” Viktor rubbed his chin, “Then, I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks, Viktor. I’m counting on you.”

The discussion continued. Lilia was presenting her ideas on the choreography; Chris and Josef went into more details on the casts and settings; Yakov was listening while giving suggestions here and there. In the meantime, the young maestro remained silent in his seat; his hand didn’t stop stroking the fur of his old companion by his feet. It looked as if he was drowning in thoughts, and yet instead of inspiration, in his head he could only hear his own voice repeating the same words over and over again.

_It was a mistake to take part in this play_.

* * *

“……I’ve ruined myself this time, aren’t I, Makkachin?” the violinist said to his poodle as they walked down the stairs to the first floor, “Chris never meant anything bad, but I shouldn’t have jumped in head first into something out of mere curiosity.”

The old dog looked up at him; his black eyes briefly gleaming as if in perplexity. It felt like his companion was asking what he planned to do from now on, and Viktor couldn’t help but let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“There’s nothing I could do. I can no longer retreat now, not after answering Chris’ invitation to come here and saying all those things to Yakov,” he said, “I hope I will be able to come up with something once we get home later. Perhaps a walk in the park and a good night sleep could help.”

He brushed back his silvery bangs, sighing again for the umpteenth time. Honestly, he had come here hoping that his friend’s idea would be able to give him inspiration, but now he ended up in a deeper problem instead. If he wasn’t able to compose anything for the musical…

“ _…No, I need to stop thinking like this and start working._ ”

It was at that moment he caught a familiar sound coming not far from where he was. A piano – and it appeared he wasn’t the only one noticing this sound since Makkachin’s ears were also perking up. The poodle then ran off ahead of him. Without thinking, the young maestro followed his friend until they both arrived in front of an opened door at the end of the long corridor.

— A string of gentle, yet lonely tunes.

What lied before him was a spacious music room with its enormous windows facing the garden. The light of the sun was piercing inside through the beautiful greeneries and the clear glasses; the entire place was giving off a serene feeling to whomever looking at this chamber dominated in pure white. There were several musical instruments, but the violinist’s attention was immediately drawn towards only a single object in the middle.

On a black grand piano firmly standing on the hardwood floor, a young man with jet black hair appeared to be playing an unknown piece of music; his fingers gracefully dancing on the monochrome keys.

“… _This guy…_ ”

He was by no means strikingly attractive, nor that he left a strong impression for others to easily remember him on first sight. He was just an ordinary young man with an old-fashioned shirt and a pair of glasses, and yet for some reason, Viktor was unable to shake off his figure quietly playing the piano while bathed in the light of the morning sun.

Before he knew it, the young maestro had stepped into the room, quietly standing by the door side as not to alarm the unknown pianist.

“ _I wonder if he’s playing an original piece…_ ”

He had never heard this music before; it was so beautiful to the point that he could not simply walk away, but at the same time, the melodies sounded as if they were carrying a mountain of indescribable sadness. It was heart-wrenching enough even for a bystander like him, and the violinist could only wonder what the young man was thinking as he composed this song on his own.

“… _Hmm?_ ”

But the music ended abruptly. It was obvious that must not be the closure the pianist had intended to play, but at that moment Viktor could no longer pay attention to such detail. It happened so fast right before his eyes; immediately after his fingers ceased to dance on the piano keys, the young man lost strength in his body and fell crashing to the floor.

“W-Wha—Hey!”

He could hear Makkachin’s distressed barks alongside his own rapid footsteps as they both dashed towards the fallen pianist. Viktor took the curling body into his arms, feeling the pale figure trembling while wheezing in pain. He appeared to be a man of Japanese descent, several years younger than him in terms of age. When the violinist tried to shake him awake, he could see drops of cold sweat running down his temples.

“Hey! Hey, what happened?!” said the composer while lightly patting the other’s cheek. The younger man didn’t say anything in response. He seemed to be clutching at the left side of his chest, but right before Viktor thought of leaving to call for help, the black-haired slowly opened his eyes.

They were a pair of beautiful brown.

“Are you okay?” the Russian asked once again, “Does it hurt somewhere? Should I call an ambulance?”

He thought he saw those brown eyes widened in surprise behind the glasses, but it was before long that the young pianist profusely shook his head. If anything, he struggled to rise to his own two feet despite the fact that his body was still wobbling left and right.

“Be careful,” Viktor supported him by the arms, “Are you sure you should be standing around so soon? You seemed to be in a lot of pain.”

The black-haired looked at him in a mix of nervousness and embarrassment. He didn’t say anything, but he repeatedly bowed his head as if trying to apologize. That, or perhaps he was trying to thank him one way or another. In any case, it appeared that the young man had somehow felt better and to this sight, Viktor could feel a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

“Well, it’s all good if you’re okay,” the violinist smiled, “I was passing by when I heard you playing the piano. That was a beautiful piece. Did you compose it by yourself?”

The black-haired nodded.

“I see. Are you a student of this conservatory? What’s your name?”

To his question, the young pianist seemed to be a bit startled. He began to frantically look for something around him. When he finally found his own cell phone sitting on top of the piano, those long fingers began to type in several words in a hurry before he showed it to the older man.

“ _My name is Yuuri Katsuki_ ” – were the words written on the screen.

And it was at that moment Viktor came to a realization: this young man was unable to talk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys. First of all, I’m terribly sorry for the extremely late update for Chapter 3. A lot of things are keeping me busy and when I did have time to write, I got writer’s block so many times that I kept re-editing everything I’ve written before.
> 
> Nevertheless, I want to confirm something that has been asked by a couple of readers before: I will not drop this story. I know I can’t guarantee that the next update will come fast, but one thing for sure is that I’m going to continue this fic until the last chapter.
> 
> That said, I apologize once again to have keep you waiting. I’ll try to find more time to write, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this update.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading my fic. :)

_With a sword_  
_I wish I could cut those throats singing about love_  
_I wish I could enclose in ice  
_ _The hands that write those verses of burning passion_

_This story that has no meaning  
_ _Will vanish tonight together with the stars_

* * *

A scrap of crumpled paper fell to the floor.

There was another one falling afterwards. And another…and another…until the small room that was supposed to be a private studio looked as if it had been changed into a garbage bin to dump discarded papers.

Sitting on the desk was supposed to be the world’s phenomenal composer, Viktor Nikiforov. At this moment, however, he looked nothing like the grandiose, magnificent figure that people were accustomed to see on stage. His silver hair was unkempt; his shirt was messy and looked as if it had been worn all day long. His hand kept writing notes after notes on the manuscript pad, but at the same time he kept tearing the pages off and tossed them away to the floor, crumpled and completely ruined.

He had been engrossed in it for hours, and yet after discarding the last sheet of paper, the young Russian let out a frustrated groan as he threw himself on top of the desk.

“ _I can’t do this._ ”

Viktor took a brief glance from his arm. His faithful violin was there, cold and useless, leaning against the wall for its owner had left it there since hours ago. It was the only thing Viktor could do to prevent himself from slamming the instrument to the floor out of frustration. Of course, before attempting to write down notes on the manuscript pad, he had tried playing random melodies on the violin in hope they might turn into good music. It was what he had always done most of the times after all, allowing his inspiration and instinct to take over his body, giving birth to masterpiece after masterpiece over the years.

And yet this time, not only did he fail to find the right melodies, but forcing himself to create one only served to make him sick of hearing the sound of violin – or any other musical instruments in that matter.

“ _I should not have accepted Chris’ offer. Now I’ll just end up disappointing everyone._ ”

A doorbell ring brought him back from his self-deprecating. Makkachin’s cheerful barks could be heard from outside, and Viktor had no choice but to lazily drag himself out of his studio. While crossing the living room, he caught the sight of his poodle already sprinting to the front door, scratching at the wooden texture.

“Now, now, Makkachin, calm down. You’re going to scare our guests, whoever they are,” he cast a gentle smile at his four-legged companion. To his words, the poodle made a small whimper before sitting down on the floor, wagging his tail when the Russian playfully patted his head.

Just like that, Viktor turned the knob and pulled the door open.

“Hi, Viktor! Long time no see—Ugh, you look terrible!“

“Oh, hello, Mila and Georgi. It’s been awhile.”

Having no excuse to explain his unusually pathetic appearance, Viktor could only smile as he made way for his two guests to come in. The first was a young girl with vivid red hair and blue eyes, while the other a black-haired older man who was about the same age as him. He had known them for several years, even before he left Yakov’s orchestra and became independent. Obviously, since the two of them were also part of the entourage. Although Mila and Georgi could both play a couple of musical instruments, however, they were in a different group than that of the violinist.

“Good grief, Viktor. We haven’t seen each other for months and when we finally do, you look like you just woke up from a bad sleep,” Georgi commented with a sigh, “Were you pulling an all-nighter?”

“I apologize for this messy getup, but yes, you’re right,” the silver-haired chuckled, “Come on in, you two. Let’s not talk on the doorway.”

He led his former colleagues to the living room and offered them coffee. Before long, the three of them already settled on the comfortable sofa, each sipping on their warm drink until Mila finally decided to strike a conversation.

“So this is where you’ll be staying in Moscow,” she said while sweeping her gaze around, “It looks somewhat similar to your place in St. Petersburg, doesn’t it?”

“Let’s just say it makes me feel closer to home, although I couldn’t really hear the sound of seagulls around here,” replied the violinist, then he shrugged his shoulders with an apologetic smile, “I’m really sorry for showing you guys this unsightly side of me. I’d planned to visit everyone in Bolshoi one of these days, but you beat me to it.”

“It’s quite alright. We just returned from practice ourselves when Georgi remembered that you’re staying around this area,” Mila said, “That, and since we will be working together again for the next months, I think it’s not too bad to surprise the maestro who would compose new songs for us. Don’t you think so, Georgi?”

“Well, it’s always a pleasure working together with an old friend, but I heard the current project’s a bit different from usual?” asked the older man, “Yakov said it’s a musical theatre written by Director Giacometti.”

“That’s right. Chris and his team already decided on the main casts, but I proposed that both Yakov’s orchestra and choir should be involved. The overall theme is a classic, so I figured having the choir’s support will add to that feeling,” Viktor leaned forward, smiling while resting his elbows on his knees, “I’ll be counting on you guys to become the voice of my lyrics.”

“If you said it like that, it would be an honor for us,” the red-haired giggled happily, “Oh, by the way, have you heard about Yuri?”

“Yuri?”

“Yuri Plisetsky. Who else?” replied Mila as she frowned, “Do you remember he won first place in last year’s International Music Competition? Recently, he’s become an official member of Yakov’s orchestra.”

“Ah, about that… He’s been terrorizing me ever since to fulfill my promise.”

“What promise?” Georgi cast him a questioning look.

“To compose a music piece exclusively for him. I promise I’d do it if he won first place in that competition,” Viktor laughed, “But that’s great. If he’s already in the orchestra, I could probably compose one for a specific scene in Chris’ musical and let Yuri plays solo on that part.”

“It would be wonderful, as long as you don’t make him play solo during JJ’s part,” said Mila with a mischievous smile, “Or maybe you could try it. I’m sure it’s going to be interesting.”

“Don’t listen to her, Viktor. The kid will murder you if he knows about this.”

Georgi’s words were welcomed by a hearty laugh from the other two. It was happy news for Viktor, nonetheless, to hear that one of his juniors had started to show such promising development. After all, he, too, used to compete in the same events for many years during his younger days. There had never been an occasion where he didn’t become a finalist, and of course, in most of those occasions the first place always went to him. Although it wasn’t his intention to brag, the violinist wouldn’t deny that he was quite proud of it.

“Have they decided when and where this year’s competition will be held?” he asked.

“I forgot the date, but I recall Yakov saying it will be six months from now, in December,” replied Georgi, “And as for the venue, apparently it’s been decided that Moscow is going to be the host this year.”

“That’s interesting. If it’s in December, then the selection must’ve started already.”

It has,” Mila said, “The professors have recently screened the students to choose who are to be sent to the Russian preliminary next month. Yuri will also be there, of course, but he will be representing his own school.”

“Oh? And who will be the representative of our conservatory?”

“You will be surprised to hear it’s not a Russian this time.”

At the red-haired’s remark, Viktor raised his brows. While their conservatory had indeed been housing many foreign students, it was extremely rare for the said foreign students to be appointed for an event of this level. Obviously, since talent wasn’t the only category used for the screening. But still that did not mean not a single foreign student had ever been chosen. There were some, and they were really outstanding musicians. To think that another had been selected this year, this student must’ve had extraordinary talent.

“You look surprised, Viktor,” Georgi chuckled in amusement, “But I was showing the same reaction when Yakov told us about it earlier.”

“Well, it was something unexpected, even to me,” the violinist seemed a little embarrassed as he scratched the side of his face awkwardly, “Out of curiosity, do you guys happen to know who this  amazing student is?”

“I’m not sure if you know him, but it’s a Japanese,” replied Mila, “I’ve shared a few classes with him. His name is Yuuri Katsuki.”

* * *

A string of melodies; the sound of piano were streaming from a certain chamber in the conservatory. It wasn’t necessarily happy or sad, but the tunes were calming enough for whoever listening to them to enjoy.

Viktor was walking through the corridor on the first floor. There weren’t a lot of students roaming around at this time of the day; most likely they were all attending classes with their respective professors. The atmosphere felt pleasantly serene, and the further he stepped forward, the clearer those melodies sounded. He didn’t need any guide to find the source of the music and before long, the Russian had arrived in front of the music room.

“ _Now this feels like a d_ _éj_ _à vu, isn’t it?_ ”

The Russian smiled to himself. Again, inside was a young Japanese man, playing the black grand piano. He did not seem to realize that another person had entered the room. Even when Viktor was standing only a few meters away from him, the pianist continued to recite notes after notes as his fingers skillfully treaded on the keys. Viktor had thought of this since the first time they met; this man was so ordinary that he could not point even one distinct feature of him.

And yet ironically, the sight of the black-haired playing the piano in this room dominated in white had burnt itself into his mind that Viktor could never get it out of his head.

“…Was that an original piece, too?”

The violinist asked casually after the younger man removed his hands from the monochrome keys. It was a normal question, but apparently the Japanese was indeed way too engrossed in his play that he jumped from his seat; his brown eyes went wide upon seeing the maestro standing beside him. Viktor chuckled as he tried to calm him down.

“There’s nothing to be surprised about. It’s just me, Viktor Nikiforov,” he said with a smile, “This is the second time we meet, Yuuri. Are you doing well?”

The Japanese nodded shyly. He seemed to be fiddling with his fingers, looking up at the older man before him only to cast his eyes down again in nervousness.  Viktor thought he looked cute. Even though Yuuri didn’t say anything, for some reason he could sort of tell what he was thinking and the violinist felt strangely amused.

“I heard from a friend that you have been chosen to represent us in the preliminary competition. Congratulations, Yuuri,” Viktor offered him a handshake, to which the younger man timidly responded to; his face turning even redder, “The piece you played just now… It was different from the one I heard back then. Were you the one who composed them?”

Again, Yuuri nodded, only this time it seemed that he was anxious about something. Perhaps it was because he found him playing those songs in secret, Viktor guessed. But having no other way to prove his assumption, the Russian decided to put it to test.

“I only heard you playing those songs when I was passing by coincidence, but I must say I enjoyed listening to them. They sound really nice, you know?” the Russian smiled, “Do you come here often? Would you mind if I drop by again to listen to your music?”

To his words, the pianist’s face brightened in both surprise and excitement. So it was true… This guy was probably worried he might say the songs were bad or something along that line. He didn’t ask for his opinion, however, and jumped straight to that conclusion. In a sense, somehow it felt rather sad. Someone with this much talent shouldn’t be having so little confidence in himself.

“ _I wonder what I could do to motivate him?_ ”

Viktor had no idea why such a thought emerged in his mind. This person was a stranger to him after all. Nevertheless, at the same time he saw the younger man taking out a cell phone from his chest pocket, typing something before hesitantly showing it to him.

[“I only come here whenever I don’t have classes or assignment, so I can’t give you an exact time.”] was what written on the display [“But if it’s not too much trouble, I will be very happy if you come again.”]

“Of course. I will be staying in Moscow for awhile, so I’ll make sure to visit whenever I’m free,” Viktor replied almost immediately, “Also, Yakov allows me to borrow the instruments in this room if the students are not using it, so I guess I really would be coming here pretty often.”

The black-haired tilted his head; a look of confusion was clear in his eyes. At first, Viktor wasn’t sure if he should tell him what he was working on since this guy was technically an outsider in their project. However, something inside him said that it would be alright to let Yuuri knew.

“Are you familiar with the name ‘Christophe Giacometti’?” he asked, and the Japanese nodded in affirmation, “Recently, he invited me to join a new project of his. It’s a musical theater, and he wanted me to compose songs for the performance. Yakov— I mean, Professor Feltsman is also part of our team.“

Yuuri seemed to be brimming with curiosity. He started typing another response into his cell phone, visibly correcting typos here and there as his fingers were moving too fast.

[“When is the musical going to premiere? Would it be in Moscow?”]

“I can’t give you a precise date yet because we’re still just starting, but I’ll let you know if something comes up. And yes, it’s going to premiere at Bolshoi,” Viktor laughed, “Are you interested to watch the show, Yuuri?”

The younger man nodded vigorously. It was funny; for awhile now Viktor had been having this impression that Yuuri might be the quiet, gloomy kind of person. He didn’t expect the black-haired would get excited over something like this, but it wasn’t a bad thing either. Just earlier today, he was losing more and more motivation about working on the music for Chris’ project, and yet knowing that there was someone out there so looking forward to it, the composer thought he could at least try a little harder for this guy’s sake.

“ _And here I was, thinking what I could do to motivate him. He ends up to be the one giving me motivation instead._ ”

Unconsciously, a smile was drawn on the violinist’s face. He only came to realize it when Yuuri stared at him with a questioning look, but even then his smile didn’t vanish. On the contrary, a sudden idea rose to his mind and he decided to bring it up.

“Yuuri, while we’re here, let’s play a song together,” he said, “What do you have in mind? Waltz? Jazz? Anything is fine, actually. I’m not that picky of a person.”

Being asked something like that out of the blue, the younger man became so baffled he ended up standing frozen in place. He looked like he had a lot of things he wanted to ask, but his hands holding the cell phone remained stiff that only his brown eyes expressed the countless questions he had for the older man. Viktor only grinned wide in response, however, and approached the startled pianist nonchalantly, holding his shoulders and made him sat down on the piano chair. Like that, he circled his arms around the Japanese from the back, resting his chin on top of those strands of black hair.

“Wow, I can feel your heart beating so loud through your clothes,” he laughed, obviously making the younger man even more flustered, “Try naming a song, Yuuri. You can pick anything you like and I’ll try to adjust to your tempo.”

He could feel the black-haired quivering in his arms, nervous and confused. Viktor didn’t plan on letting him go, however, but at the same time it wasn’t his intention to tease him either. Hugging him closer, the Russian whispered into the other’s ear, this time with a more reassuring voice.

“Do you have anything in mind?” he asked, “Don’t worry. Take your time and pick a song that you like best.”

To his question, Yuuri looked back at him; his hesitant eyes seemed as if they were saying “ _Are you sure about this?_ ”. The Russian laughed softly. Nodding in confirmation, he made a small distance between them, and yet his hands were still placed on the younger man’s shoulders. Yuuri took a long, deep breath, turning to face the piano and after a brief pause, put his fingers on the piano keys again.

A string of melodies began to stream throughout the room.

“……?!!”

“… _Is it not good?_ ” – that question appeared to be written all over the Japanese’s face as he halted his performance at once, turning back with an anxious face. Realizing that Yuuri had misunderstood his reaction, the violinist immediately responded.

“Oh, no, no. That’s not it,” Viktor shook his head, “I was just surprised you pick that song.”

[“Do you prefer a different piece?”] Yuuri wrote on his cell phone.

“No, this is fine,” the Russian smiled to him, resting his chin on the other’s head like before, “Actually, I’m quite curious to hear your version of this score. Could you please play it again?”

Despite the brief pause, eventually Yuuri nodded and placed his hands on the black and white keys once more. Just like that, for the second time, a flow of melodies resounded throughout the room.

— _The Lilac Fairy_

_The strongest of the six fairies invited by King Florestan XXIV and his Queen on the Christening day of their baby daughter, Princess Aurora. Beauty, courage, sweetness, musical talent and mischief – all these virtues were bestowed on the child as gifts from the good fairies. However, just as the Lilac Fairy was about to give her blessing, there was a clap of thunder and the entire palace grew dark._

_Carabosse, the evil fairy, arrived in fury for not being invited to the Christening. She placed a curse on the infant, that on her sixteenth birthday, she would prick her finger on a swindle and die. Nevertheless, the Lilac Fairy intervened. Albeit not having a power strong enough to undo the curse, she was able to alter it. Instead of dying, the princess would fall into a peaceful slumber. And after a hundred years, she would then be woken up by a kiss from a handsome prince._

The score, created by a renowned Russian composer, was part of one of the world’s most famous ballets – _The Sleeping Beauty_ , which consisted of a Prologue and Three Acts. “The Lilac Fairy” was in the Prologue, and far before the ballet was first performed in 1890, the story of “The Sleeping Beauty” itself had become a tale known to all.

Of course, Viktor was also more than just familiar with this fairytale, but it wasn’t the reason why he was so taken aback upon knowing that the younger man chose “The Lilac Fairy” as their first incidental duet.

Why, this was the score he performed on that day eleven years ago, the day he claimed a golden trophy that marked the beginning of his musical career.

“…Keep playing,” he gently whispered to the black-haired while slowly distancing himself, letting go of those thin shoulders he’d been holding. There were many other instruments in that room aside of the grand piano, but it was obvious to which instrument his decision would fall. Without wasting another second, Viktor took up one of the violins, returning to the younger man’s side and placed his bow on the strings.

A mellow, tender melody then blended in with the lone piano tunes.

“ _It feels so long since I last played this score…_ ”

He could not help but feel nostalgic. That day, in Vienna’s Musikverein, on the stage of the Golden Hall, his younger self was performing this piece in front of hundreds audience and the juries. They were expecting a flawless performance from him, and a flawless performance was what he delivered to them. He was certain of his victory, that his music would surely surprise those watching him on the stage. The “Viktor Nikiforov” from that day was still so full of inspiration, so full of dreams that whenever he took up his bow and violin, he could never wait to bring out more and more new songs for all to hear.

Compared to that time, seeing himself right now almost felt like a joke.

He kept creating songs after songs, attempting to please the countless admirers he had gathered for himself over the years. But in the end, none of those really matter. Because what good would it do, if by the end of the day, there was just him and his drying well of inspiration?

“ _When I approach a music like a new beginning, I know I will surely be able to surprise everyone. But_ _does that mean…I can only find new strength on my own?_ ”

Viktor cast his eyes down. He thought his heart had become lighter when he started to engage in this duet, but that was proven to be wrong. Although he kept playing his violin until the last note, the sound of the instrument felt somewhat empty that he had no idea why he started all this in the first place. It was just like last night; if the song were to last even a bit longer, he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to keep playing until the end.

And yet those thoughts shattered immediately when he lifted his face, looking at the sight waiting right in front of him.

“…Yuuri?”

What he saw before him was none other than the young pianist who had been his duet partner in the past few minutes due to his whimsical request. The Japanese appeared startled at first, fiddling with his fingers as his cheeks flushed in red and his eyes looking down in embarrassment. He still looked the same; an ordinary black hair, an ordinary pair of glasses, a rather old-fashioned set of clothes that left no distinct impression on others. But when he lifted his face then, his expression was painted with a smile.

So genuine was that smile, that Viktor could barely realize how it had moved his heart if not for a little bit.

“Amazing! I’ve never heard a duet like this.”

A sudden applause broke the silence between them. A male student was standing by the door, clapping his hands with a look of amazement beaming all over his face. His appearance was rather unique; natural tanned skin, black hair and dark eyes – just like those coming from tropical countries in Southeast Asia. He appeared friendly, nonetheless, as he approached the two of them with a smile.

“I’m really sorry to bother. I was looking for Yuuri when I heard a lovely song coming from this direction,” he said, “I thought it was a recording. To think that the two of you were the ones performing it… That was so beautiful!”

“Why, thank you for the compliment. Glad to hear that you enjoyed listening to our little performance,” replied Viktor as he then turned to the pianist beside him, “Is this a friend of yours, Yuuri?”

[“Yes. He is my roommate.”] to his question, the Japanese nodded and typed those words as an answer. He smiled to the other student, waving his hand as he arrived in front of them.

“Hello, my name is Phichit Chulanont. Yuuri and I share the same room in the dormitory. Pleased to meet you, Viktor,” he said cheerfully.

“The pleasure is mine. I’m terribly sorry for monopolizing your friend,” replied the Russian with a kind smile, “I hope I wasn’t bothering any of your activities?”

“Don’t worry about it. As his friend, I’m happy that Yuuri finally gets to meet his idol. He has been admiring you for a very long time.”

“Is that so…?”

“Yes! You see, a couple of weeks ago when he met you for the first time, Yuuri was so happy that he started to—Mmpffhh?!“

**[“PHICHIT, STOP!!”]**

Before they knew it, the Japanese had sprung from his seat, face beet red all the way to his ears. He muffled the other student’s mouth with one hand, while the other hand was holding his cell phone with those words written in bold capital letters. Nevertheless, even though he nearly choked on his own breath, the student named Phichit appeared to be grinning wide from ear to ear. He barely seemed to have any regret, which was understandable, Viktor thought.

After all, Yuuri’s reaction was quite priceless.

“I see. So you’re a fan of mine, Yuuri. That’s really an honor,” the violinist said, winking purposely towards the panicking younger man, “Would you like to take a commemorative photo?”

“Go for it, Yuuri! It’s not every day you get a chance to take a picture with Viktor Nikiforov.”

Being attacked from both sides, the pianist furiously shook his head. By this time, his face had turned so red that Viktor was afraid he might start blowing smokes from his head. As funny as it seemed, perhaps it was time to show some mercy.

“Well, it’s alright. Just let me know if you feel like taking a picture, okay?” he chuckled happily before turning at the other student, “So… Phichit, was it? You were looking for Yuuri, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Phichit clasped his hands, looking at his still flustered roommate, “Yuuri, I have a message from Celestino. He said he wants to talk to you and he’ll be waiting in his office.”

[“About what?”] replied the Japanese, showing his friend the display of his phone with a confused face.

“It’s about next week’s charity concert. He’s talked to Leo and Guang Hong earlier and just needs to confirm a few things with you.”

Yuuri nodded in response. In the meantime, Viktor threw a curious look at the two students.

“Pardon my interruption, but… This ‘Celestino’ you’re talking about, could he be Celestino Cialdini?” he asked.

“Right, that’s his name. Do you know him, Viktor?” Phichit turned at him, seemingly surprised.

“I’ve never been in his classes before, but yes I know him. He started teaching in this conservatory around the time I was on my second year,” the Russian smiled. However, he then peered at Yuuri’s face with a secretive smile, to which the younger man became quickly overwhelmed by confusion again. “And? What is this talk about charity concert, Yuuri? You never mention anything like that to me before.”

[“I thought…you wouldn’t be interested.”] replied the black-haired timidly.

“If you’re going to perform in it, of course I will be very much interested to attend,” Viktor playfully smacked him on the back before turning at the other student, “May I know when and where this concert will take place? If you don’t mind, that is.”

“No, no, we don’t mind at all! It’s would be amazing to have Viktor Nikiforov visiting our small event,” Phichit said with a delighted smile, “Do you know that public park nearby? We will be there next Saturday starting from nine in the morning.”

“I see. I’ll make sure to keep my schedule open on that day.”

He noticed the Japanese staring at him with an indescribable look. Either Yuuri did not expect him to be interested to come, or the pianist might be thinking about something he could not yet understand. Viktor returned his look with a smile, and in a kind voice, he asked the younger man.

“What is it, Yuuri? Is something the matter?”

[“You will come?”] hesitantly, Yuuri showed him those words. Only those three words, but it was impossible to mistake how his brown eyes glistening behind those glasses. Not in excitement or happiness, but in anticipation and worry, as if he was preparing himself to hear the worst.

“...Of course I will. It’s a promise.”

Viktor told him those words, only those words, and yet it was all it took to bring the smile back to the younger man’s face. He had lost count how many times the color of red had painted Yuuri’s pale cheeks, but this time Viktor knew it wasn’t embarrassment that turned him so.

“ _How could he become so happy just with this?_ ”

“Yuuri, Celestino is waiting for you, you know?” Phichit’s laugh broke the momentary silence between them, “I know you’re happy that Viktor’s going to watch your performance, but you shouldn’t keep your instructor’s waiting.”

“ _Ahh… Now this one’s a face of embarrassment_ ” – was what Viktor thought upon seeing the Japanese flinched at his friend’s teasing, abruptly collecting his belongings and putting them all into his bag. He stood up at once and seemed to be ready to sprint towards the door. However, Yuuri stopped after only one step, looking back at him with those brown eyes of his flickering again.

There were no words said, but Viktor understood what he meant to convey.

“See you next Saturday, Yuuri,” he smiled, and the next thing he saw was the pianist’s expression of relief before he jogged away and left the music room. Viktor watched him until that shy figure disappeared from his sight.

“……Will you really come?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean anything bad by that,” Phichit quickly corrected his remark. The student looked like he was trying to tell him something, but unable to find the right words to say so. Scratching the back of his head, he looked at the Russian again. “I mean, it’s just that… I haven’t seen Yuuri this happy in awhile, so…”

“Are you worried that I may break my promise?”

“No, well… Yes… I guess, a little bit…” with the cheerful smile now gone from his face, Phichit averted his eyes, seemingly conflicted, “A lot of students here are your fans, Viktor. I’m also one of them, so I’m sure everyone’s going to be happy to see you visiting a small event we organized. But Yuuri… Yuuri is different.”

“What do you mean?” the Russian tilted his head.

“Sorry if I’m confusing you. What I mean to say is… This is Yuuri’s last year in this conservatory, so I want him to have as much fun as possible. You coming to our concert would mean so much for him.”

“Of course, I will come. I won’t go back on my own words,” the violinist said. He saw Phichit’s expression gradually becoming one of relief as the student brightened once again. However, still Viktor did not miss the slight bitterness in his smile when the black-haired said his next words.

“Thank you so much, Viktor. I’m really happy to hear that,” he replied, and then the younger man let out a soft laugh, casting his dark eyes to the floor and mumbling as if there was something running in his mind that he would not reveal. “With this, I hope… I hope I won’t get to see Yuuri’s sad face again.”

“Phichit?”

“Ah, no, never mind,” the student shook his head once again and showed him his usual friendly smile, “Thank you again, Viktor. Looking forward to see you at the concert.”

With that said, Phichit bid him farewell and trotted away after his friend. Viktor could only stare at his back until the black-haired, too, could no longer be seen after he stepped out of the door. But even though he was now left by himself, the words murmured by that student earlier remained ringing in his ears.

“ _I don’t think Yuuri has any more room left for another disappointment._ ”

* * *

_**Note:** "The Lilac Fairy" was composed by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. In "Yuri!!! on Ice", young Viktor Nikiforov skated to this program during the Junior World Championship, wearing the "Eros" costume. Young Yuuri Katsuki was first introduced to Viktor by Yuuko Nishigori when they saw this program on TV at Hasetsu's Ice Castle._

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471256) by [Phizzicat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phizzicat/pseuds/Phizzicat)




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